The Princeton Attitude
by Arwen Lune
Summary: Who said Princesses from Princeton aren't any good in a jam? Emily decides it's time to polish up her tactical skills.


**The Princeton Attitude  
**  
Emily quitly drew her gun and took aim. The dark-clad man was facing away from her, and she didn't think he'd seen her yet. She had to disarm him and keep him under shot until her backup arrived.

"FBI. Drop your weapon!"

His head snapped around, and faster than she'd thought possible he was facing her, his gun aimed square at her chest.

"Drop your weapon!"

He gave an evil grin and pulled the trigger.

TAC!

* * *

"Ow." 

"Sorry, did I miss your vest?" Frank asked, lowering the paintball handgun.

"No, thin padding there. Just a bruise," Emily sighed. "I'm more concerned about the fact that I just got shot."

"It's a problem," Frank agreed. "If this is your normal approach then I'm glad you've never been caught without backup."

"Yeah, that's what Matt says, and I'm sick of it. I don't want to be kept out of situations, I want to learn how to handle them."

"Matt can't see you as his professional partner anymore." He shrugged. "We're doing this bit of training so you get to show him."

"Okay, so what did I do wrong?"

"You sounded nervous. It leaves a subject a lot of space to ask himself questions like... 'I wonder what happens if I don't do what she says'," Frank explained.

* * *

"FBI. Drop your weapon!" 

"Why?"

"Drop it or I'll shoot!"

"No."

Emily lowered her weapon.

"Frank, when is that ever going to happen? It's not a realistic training situation."

"It is, the way you go about this."

"Was it at least better than before? "

Frank crossed his arms and looked at her a long moment.

"Your tone is better, but your body language is saying 'please drop the weapon so I don't have to shoot'," he said. "It's an open invitation for a someone to test you."

Emily took that in.

"Okay, but it's true. I don't want to shoot him— hey, was that an eyeroll?"

"Very nearly," he chuckled. "Look, I know you don't want to shoot anybody. The point is that if you show that, it's almost guaranteed that someone will try you out."

"So you want me to act trigger happy?"

"I want you to project that it will take just one wrong move from your subject and you will shoot without hesitation. Project that he either drops the weapon right now, or he gets shot – there are no other options. If he believes that, the situation is much more likely to end without shooting."

"Okay. Project dominance to forestall opposition. Makes sense."

She stood still for a moment, composing herself, then raised her weapon with both hands and faced him.

* * *

"FBI. Drop your weapon." 

"Hmm-hmm," he nodded. "Doesn't feel like a suggestion anymore."

"You still didn't drop your weapon," she observed.

"It's gonna take more than that."

Emily sighed, growing hopeless.  
"I'm not sure what else there is."

"Well, you have a disadvantage. You're a woman."

Emily gave him a disbelieving look – she'd never known Frank to be sexist. He held up his hand to stop her comment.

"Now that doesn't make a damn bit of difference in your ability to do the job, but a lot of perps are still going to assume that you're less likely to shoot them, so they're gonna try shit."

"Well, what can I do about that?"

"Find a way to counteract that assumption. I used to work with someone back in Detroit who could summon the most amazing this-is-the-wrong-time-of-the-month attitude. Never failed – she could make you believe that she'd shoot you for standing between her and a bar of chocolate, let alone for not dropping your gun."

"Are you saying I should tell them..."

"No, I'm saying you need to find that attitude, and project it. Again."

* * *

"And again." 

"Hmm. Again."

"Again."

"I have time, and I still got the gun. We're not stopping until you get this down."

"Once more."

* * *

"FBI. Drop your weapon. Now!" 

"…Now? Or you'll do… what?"

TAC!

"Ow." Frank looked down to the red splatter on his shoulder. "Nice shot."

"Thanks. Or I'll do _that_."

"Very good. You're making progress here."

"By shooting a subject? I wouldn't call that progress."

"No, by being willing to shoot. Now remember that half-second before you squeezed the trigger. What went on in your head?"

"I don't know... I guess I was annoyed, and out of patience."

"I could see it in your face. You bit down on your back teeth," Frank grinned. "Focus on that moment, and use it from the first second you face your subject. And don't say 'now' – it should be completely obvious that you don't mean in five minutes."

"Right." Emily waited a long moment, determined that this time it would go right. She wasn't sure if Frank was being realistic or if he was playing this harder than it would be in reality, but it had felt good to shoot him… it wasn't often that she got to mark the HRT commander. She looked at the paint on his shoulder and remembered, as he'd suggested, the moment of pulling the trigger.

* * *

"FBI. Drop your weapon!" 

She put all her considerable determination in her voice. If Matt thought that she couldn't handle this side of the job, she'd damn well prove him wrong. Princesses from Princeton could be ferocious and she'd show him.

Frank opened his hand. The gun clattered to the floor.

"Hands behind your head. Kick the weapon this way."

He did as instructed, a grin growing on his face.

"You need to try that attitude on Matt some time," he said, breaking out of character and lowering his hands. "Well done."

Emily lowered her weapon and let out a long breath. She'd done it.

"Thanks. And Frank?"

"Hmm?" he was shrugging out of his vest on his way to the door.

"Thanks. For helping me."

"Don't mention it. Same time next week, Restraining 101."

"I didn't know you were into bondage."

His laughter boomed around the training room, and then he was gone.

Emily smiled to herself as she put away the paintball weapons and took off the coverall and vest. Matt had no idea what he'd started.

END


End file.
